


Tilia

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Legolas besmirches the garden.
Relationships: Legolas Greenleaf/Lindir
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Tilia

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The trees of Imladris are small, pitiful by Woodland standards, but still beautiful in their own right, and Legolas still loves them. He drifts about them in the garden while the others from his party are off sleeping in or enjoying the morning feast. He didn’t come to another Elven stronghold for food and sleep, but for this different version of art—the kind found in the foreign flowers lining the bushes and the rush of the tall waterfalls in the distance, the rise of the mountains all around and the butterflies that aren’t black but blue—as small and pretty as the trees they land in. Legolas hums to them, trying to match the quiet cooing of the birds, as he winds past one skinny trunk after the next. Then he finally finds one by the eastern wing just tall enough to climb, and his heart soars with that chance. It’s been too long since he last slept among lush leaves. He still won’t tonight, because Lord Elrond’s accommodations are as warm and welcoming as Legolas’ own quarters at home. But he can still enjoy the crux of a sturdy branch in the early morning. 

He climbs up slowly, gracefully, enjoying every second, savouring the rough texture of the bark and the makeshift footholds of gnarled birthmarks. He reaches the very tip of the base but doesn’t dare walk out onto the multiplying limbs that end in bright pink blossoms—even under his delicate weight and masterful steps, they would surely shatter. They’re nothing like the towering, twisting groves that Legolas grew up in, but they certainly have their own charm. 

Many things are charming in Imladris. He spots one such delight winding towards him along the grassy path. Lord Elrond’s faithful attendant comes to a rest before the tree, looking up at Legolas with such wide, pretty eyes. His brown hair sways lightly in the wind, the silver circlet around his head matching the trim on his lavender robes. His lips part at seeing Legolas, then close again, and Legolas can see the struggle on his lovely face. This isn’t the first time Legolas has had the good fortune of their paths crossing, and so he knows what should be coming—what Lindir would say to any other. But Lindir is a faithful servant through and through and doesn’t seem to have it in him to scold a prince. 

Legolas casually greets, “Good morning, Lindir. You look wonderful today—like a new swan on the gentle river.”

Lindir’s cheeks instantly turn pink. He has such low defenses, so easy to tease, so sweet when it happens. He responds, “Good morning, Prince Legolas... but... I must ask you to please behave in the gardens.”

Legolas lifts both golden brows. He shifts down onto the nearest branch, draws his legs up and ready, and then abruptly falls—so fast that Lindir actually _squeaks_ like an adorable mouse. Legolas doesn’t drop to the ground, of course, but catches himself easily, instead simply hanging upside down, his face at just Lindir’s height but his long hair draping down towards the earth. He can’t help musing, “Oh? This is fine behaviour in the Woodland Realm...”

Visibly squirming, Lindir mumbles, “Well... it is not here.” And the words may be obstinate, but the tone is greatly blunted with the usual reverence that he always pays Legolas. His voice itself is a wondrous one, built for song: a minstrel by all rights.

A minstrel and a guardian of the rules of Lord Elrond’s home. It’s clear that he won’t leave until Legolas relents, although he seems very much reluctant for their conversation to shape this way. Legolas doesn’t have the heart to push him any further. 

Instead, Legolas gestures with one finger. Lindir tilts his head, then obediently steps forward, close enough that Legolas can reach out to capture his face, cupping his soft cheeks and thumbs grazing beneath his jaw, fingertips sliding into his silk-smooth hair. Gripping the tree hard beneath his knees, Legolas swings forward enough to bring their lips together. It’s a chaste but tender kiss, no less lovely for being upside down. He can feel Lindir’s sharp hitch of breath against him and twists for another, this time with just the _tiniest_ bit of tongue. 

When he lets himself swing back, those few centimeters away, he isn’t surprised to find Lindir half-lidded and red from nose to ear. Legolas agrees, “Very well.” And just like that, he swings down from the tree, on his own two feet again before the second’s finished. 

Then he’s standing so close to Lindir that another kiss is perilously imminent. Before they devolve into that, Legolas murmurs, “I will listen, my friend, but only because you are so very cute. And you must show me what else one might do here for _fun_.”

He doesn’t even have to wink. Doesn’t even have to stroke Lindir’s hair or whisper naughty things. The interest is already there, hot enough to boil over. Biting his bottom lip, Lindir glances around, but no one else has wandered into this particular stretch of garden, and there are no witnesses to either of their indiscretions. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Lindir finally nods. He takes Legolas’ hand and answers, “I will do my best, my prince.” And he tugs Legolas off to more discreet places.


End file.
